


Cutting Out The Rot

by JoansGlove



Series: Hierarchy of Needs [11]
Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 04:11:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7419268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoansGlove/pseuds/JoansGlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vera discovers that you can't have it both ways</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cutting Out The Rot

**Author's Note:**

> Set post-Goldfish but before my non-Hierarchy fic Window of the Soul
> 
> Huge thanks to Duchess and Ifitbelove for their support and encouragement in my hour of need

“You and I are nothing like each other. I would never do to anyone what you did to me!”  
Joan's eyes narrowed as she recalled Vera's comments from the night of their aborted dinner date. The meek woman had shown surprising confidence in confronting her like that but then, coming to terms with a life altering condition could do that to some people; they needed to vent their emotions – it was all part of the grieving process.

However, it was a clear signal that Vera was unworthy of her attentions and Joan was secretly pleased that it was Vera who had drawn this issue to the fore; this betrayal of Vera's most primal response made what she was about to say so much more authentic. The Hep C infection, which made the prospect of any future relationship patently untenable, did not even need to be raised. It made Joan shudder at the mere thought but it also filled her with deep anger at how Vera had kept the diagnosis from her -what if things were different? What if she had been about to declare her deep affection – what then? Where would that have left her?

She reviewed Vera's interim appraisal paperwork as it lay in front of her, geometrically positioned in the exact centre of her desk blotter and grimly signed off what appeared to be a glowing report. 

“Before you go, Vera, I’d just like to clarify a point so there will be no further misunderstanding.” She closed the front cover of Vera's file and sat back, leisurely crossing her long legs. “Now, the riot.” Joan allowed a pregnant pause to hang in the air between herself and her unworthy Deputy.  
“You’re a trained Corrections Officer, allegedly proficient in self-defence and conflict management techniques, yet once again you managed to take the most egregious decision. Really, Vera; capsicum spray? I mean, what was that meant to achieve hmmm?” Joan raised a mocking eyebrow.  
“You should have taken out the ringleader immediately. Incapacitated her with a decisive blow. That would have panicked the sheep and then would have been the time to disable the second in command – but you didn’t did you? You froze. You failed yourself, Vera, and it personally saddens me.” Joan surveyed the file in front of her and ran a polished thumbnail along the crisp edge of the buff folder. She raised her dark eyes again to assess the effect of her words.  
“It’s not the first time you’ve been in a similar situation I know, but I suspect that it’s the first time that you haven’t had the reassurance of back-up – and it showed. You went to water, Vera. All that money and time spent on equipping you to do the job, all my efforts in training you to respond in a calm and measured fashion under undue pressure and for what?”  
Vera gaped at the Governor. She had no words to defend herself, she was the victim here….  
“But, as you failed to take your survival into your own hands I was forced to assess the situation and choose the right path for you. For both of us.” 

Vera took a deep breath; she didn’t deserve to be spoken to like this! “You were prepared to throw me to the dogs rather than give in to their demands! How could you do that to me?” She could feel a pricking behind her lids as she grew hot with indignation. “I thought that you had real feelings for me, Joan, I thought that under this polished display of mentoring and development we had something; hell, you’ve even told me as much. But I can see now that we don’t!” Her blue eyes shone with tears as she balled her fists in her lap. “You really don’t care about me at all do you?”

“Oh, Vera. Vera.” Joan sighed and gave a fleeting shake of her head, the silver bands flowing from her temples catching the late afternoon light as it filtered around the edges of the window shades. “How do you still not get it? My choices had nothing to do with what I felt about you. Those animals had nowhere to go; infecting you would have negated their bargaining power - you must be aware of that? If I had thought for one minute that you were in serious danger, then of course, I would have acted differently but you weren’t.” She regarded the angry young woman coolly.  
Vera swallowed and coloured with embarrassment. Joan was right, of course; she was always right.  
Joan leaned forward over the desk. “If you want a scapegoat for what’s happened to you then I suggest that you look to yourself, and then to Channing, but don’t you DARE try to lay the blame at my feet!” she settled back in her seat and waited for Vera's response.

Anger roiled inside Vera but she held her tongue. It hadn’t been her fault! What was she expected to do against so many women? A tiny part of her brain picked up on Joan's use of the past tense – she’d just used ‘felt‘ instead of ‘feel’, what was going on here? 

Joan continued in her infuriatingly calm voice. “Your lack of faith in my methods is very telling, Vera, we DO NOT negotiate with prisoners as you well know…. Until that fool Channing interfered you were perfectly safe. I know that you will have reviewed the footage until it’s been worn thin so tell me this, Vera: were you bleeding before the gates were opened, hmmm? No, you weren’t, were you? If I thought for one moment that you would have suffered more than a few scrapes and bruises then I would have considered a different approach, but never make the mistake of thinking that personal feelings came into it,” her mobile mouth twitched with the vestiges of a cruel smile, “but that’s the difference between you and me isn’t it? I CAN make the tough decisions, the ones that matter, without allowing my emotions to cloud the issue but you?” Joan cocked her head thoughtfully. “Well, you just don’t have it in you do you?”

“Is that why you haven’t touched me since the riot? Because I didn’t do what you would have?” Whilst admittedly feeling like crap for the last few months her sex drive had not been similarly affected and Joan's aloofness had driven her almost to distraction until her pent up frustration escaped in waspish comments and uncharitable thoughts and deeds. Part of her still deeply regretted calling Joan on the syringe incident but it had needed to be said, although it galled her that despite protestations of caring, Joan had shown no sign of it – her words may as well have been dead slugs falling from her mouth. If anything, Joan was even more distant than ever and Vera's mind returned time and again to worry at the memory of Joan releasing her hand like it was poisoned; that moment had changed everything between them – whatever had been eating away at Joan finally came to a head – and now here they were….. 

Joan's eyes were soulless as she stared intently at her Deputy. No emotion played across her handsome face; she gave Vera no quarter, no flicker of regret, no warmth or empathy. Joan knew that this was the end of the affair – there was nothing she wanted to salvage; all that was left for her to do was inform Vera that she would no longer serve as her mentor, that there would be no further interaction on a personal level. Vera was on her own.

That she still felt a strong physical attraction to this small woman was irrelevant, lust could be quashed or sublimated into other pursuits, and whatever emotional attachment she had developed for this lonely creature lay in tatters following the overwhelming evidence of Vera's flat out refusal to trust and grow as required coupled with the staggering deception surrounding her contraction of Hepatitis C.  
Maggie had been wrong – there was nothing about Vera that she could feel comfortable with. Vera was still the same small-minded, vindictive creature she’d met on her first day at Wentworth, her development had been a sham from start to finish.  
A small part of Joan wondered why couldn’t Vera have stepped up and become what she wanted; needed? Why couldn’t she have evolved past the mundanity of her suburban conditioning and grasp the tail of Joan's kite which promised to elevate her beyond all that she had known before, that would have raised her to the heights of success and power that she so badly craved but was so obviously afraid to reach for?  
It irritated her that she’d invested so much time and energy on such a fruitless, misjudged endeavour. Joan felt betrayed and as usual, those feelings translated into spiteful malice.

“You’ll never amount to anything, Vera.” She stated flatly. “Oh, you may be able to employ some of the things you’ve learned from me but it’ll only ever be a veneer to hide what you really are, which is weak and self-doubting, self-deceiving, a self-loathing wannabe. Whilst you finally satisfy the requirements of a Deputy Governor – and god knows it’s been a long time coming - you ’ll never be able to make the big decisions in life, the ones that really matter; and you’ll never gain the trust of anyone because you can’t help but think the worst of people whilst at the same time whoring yourself for their friendship.”  
Vera physically recoiled in shock at Joan's assessment.  
Joan's eyes narrowed, “it’s because you’ll always feel inferior to them,” she whispered conspiratorially before resuming her neutral tone. “I’m not talking about your dealings with the inmates, although they also feel the scratches of that wounded animal you house; but I’ve seen you, Vera - the way your face tightens with jealousy when someone is happy; how eager you are to lend a sympathetic ear to another’s woes because secretly inside you're thinking ‘here’s someone who’s worse off than me’. That’s why you never questioned my quiet little talks with the inmates after lights out, never voiced concerns over my more, ah, unorthodox methods isn’t it, hmmm? As long as someone else was suffering worse than you then it was OK wasn’t it? But now it’s you that’s holding the shitty end of the stick and you just can’t stand it can you? You feel like you’re back to square one, that you may as well still be living with that hag of a mother.”

Tears welled in Vera’s large blue eyes and, seeing that her words had pierced the other woman's fragile ego, Joan allowed herself to enjoy the warming glow that the response generated. Capitalising on Vera's shock she continued her verbal assault.  
“And don’t think I’ve forgotten how you lied about your visits to Mr Fletcher. It opened my eyes to you, Vera, to your sneaky little ways – purposely telling me that you’d not seen him,” she chided, “when all the time you were there every chance you got. I suppose it was the only way you had of making yourself feel normal though, hmmm? Pretending you had a friend when all he was was a baseline by which to measure your own pathetic life, someone to replace your mother as a well for all your emotions because you are unable to break free from your conditioning?”  
The muscles in Vera's face worked as conflicting emotions fought for supremacy. “It’s not as if you’re receptive to them is it?” she muttered sourly.  
Joan ignored her. “And I was most disappointed in your faith in me surrounding Smith’s most recent psychotic break. I find it most hurtful that you would even consider siding with a prisoner against someone with my unimpeachable conduct record,” she grimaced, “no matter how ‘adamant’ they may be. I fully condone thoroughness in one’s duties, but surreptitious attempts at evidence gathering? Hurtful; most hurtful. You don’t bite the hand that feeds you, Vera, not unless you're prepared to go hungry.”

The office suddenly seemed too hot and airless and Vera felt sweat beading around her hairline, down her back and between her breasts. She was not this woman that Joan was describing, she told herself, she simply wasn’t! Yet try as she might, old anxieties trickled back, take away Joan and what was she? A second rate officer and a friendless sticky beak. She wanted to stop Joan in mid flow but all that came from her dry throat was a hoarse click.

The powerful, dark haired woman sat forward again, weaving her long fingers into a steeple as she leant on her elbows. “You see, I thought that you’d grown, Vera, I thought that you were capable of empathy, of true loyalty; but it appears that my judgment is in error and I simply won’t allow myself to waste any more time trying to develop you when it’s evident that you don’t have the necessary aptitude. I’m done with you, I won’t teach you if you refuse to learn and I won’t invest my time and emotions in you if you fail to reciprocate.” 

Joan was well aware of the risk that this blunt curtailment of their special professional and personal relationship posed. She knew that Vera would take up the mantle of the woman scorned, how she would wallow in self-pity, blaming everyone but herself for this turn of events. And she knew that from now on Vera would be looking out for every infringement of the rules, filing them away for when she needed to defend herself in the future; Vinegar Tits by name and Vinegar Tits by nature she reflected.  
But really, none of this was of real concern to Joan; she was confident that Vera would never find the balls to use any of her infractions against her. And if she did, there were always ways and means of quashing allegations and discrediting her accuser…. She had seen to that.

“We are done, Vera. Under the circumstances I’m sure it’ll be a relief for you to return to your old role will it not?” Joan's triumphant gaze slid away from her deflated Deputy’s puppy dog eyes and settled on her row of yellow pencils, so neatly lined up and ready for action.

Vera felt hollow, she felt sick. “Just how long have you been planning this, Joan? I know that you’ll have been considering it for some time, it’s not as if you do anything spontaneously is it? Did the discovery of my Hep C status help spur you to a decision?” She asked acidly.  
The tiniest flicker at the corner of Joan's mouth told her she was right. Anger bloomed.  
“Always one to deflect a situation aren’t you, Joan? I disgust you because in your eyes I’m tainted, unclean!” She threw up her hands and cast her eyes aimlessly around the office before focusing again on the statue-like figure of the Governor. “God forbid that you might sully yourself with someone as dirty as me! I’m right aren’t I? If you truly cared about me then your hand would have stayed on mine instead of snatching it away like I’d burned you! This is a godsend for you isn’t it? Go, on,” she challenged shrilly, “tell me I’m wrong. Tell me how misguided I was about it all getting a bit too real for you. What better excuse for breaking things off than a diseased lover! Was that a decision you took without emotion too? Just part of your OCD?” Vera vibrated with righteous indignation. “I mean, there’s no way you could fuck me as I am now if you can’t even bring yourself to hold my hand!” she spat.

“Ah, yes; your new disease.” Joan exaggerated the sibilants in a tone loaded with icy venom, her hooded stare chilling Vera's core. “Were you going to tell me before, during or after our next sexual encounter? I do hope you’ve been more careful with your other partners…”  
Even now Joan was judging her! Vera's lips drew back from her teeth in a grimace of disbelief.  
“You left me no choice, Vera. I told you from the very start that trust between us was paramount but you evidently came to consider that term highly negotiable. You have no-one to blame but yourself. With all that you know of me, do you honestly think that I would entertain such a situation for any longer than necessary? And you, Vera, are not necessary.”

So that was it, thought Vera. Maybe she should have seen it coming. She’d been a wilful fool to believe that they had a future, that she could change her ways enough to become Joan's girlfriend; but a bigger fool, she thought bitterly, to think that anything she did could soften Joan's romantic feelings for her enough for them to quell any concerns over her professional development.  
The familiar shame of rejection washed over her but this time she was finding it much harder to accept. So much harder. Joan was probably the only person who had ever offered her a future, the chance of love and acceptance; a wonderful, strange feeling that eclipsed the pain and suffering she had endured for so long and made her feel good at last, and she had wanted to make Joan feel the same. 

A small part of Vera’s soul coughed its dying breath and she began to realise just what this moment signified: she was completely alone and the pain cut so much deeper knowing that she would be reminded of her solitude in the light of what could have been every time Joan's shadow crossed her path. Her stomach dropped and she fought back tears, blinking rapidly as she sought to compose herself.

Her angry whine cut through the silence. “After all this time you still can’t find it in your heart to be kind to me can you?”  
Joan cocked an eyebrow in genuine surprise and stared at Vera's sulky face. “Really, Vera? Is that what you think? Do you not hear the hypocrisy in your own words?”  
Vera’s flushed expression was one of incomprehension.  
“When, Vera; when have you ever been kind to me? When have you ever put my needs before your own for no other reason than to be my friend, to be a good person?”  
“I’ve put your needs before my own so many times I’ve lost count!”  
“Ah,” Joan countered, “but they were never selfless acts were they, Vera, hmmm? Everything you’ve ever done for me was, and still is, for your own advancement; but never, never for me alone.” Joan's eyes were filled with sadness as she looked down at her subordinate. “Huh! You just don’t have it in you, do you?” She took a slow, deep breath and turned to the window. “But then, it’s to be expected really, you’ve never known kindness for so much of your life so you can’t recognise it in others.”

Vera opened her mouth to protest. How dare Joan talk to her like this! Everything she’d done since they’d met had been done to please Joan! But fuck it! She wouldn’t give the bitch the satisfaction of a reply. Crossing her arms tightly over her small bosom she turned huffily in her own seat and stared blindly into the secretary’s office as the maelstrom of rejection, unfounded criticism and painful truth billowed round her. Lonely humiliation settled on her like a shroud and she swallowed hard against the threatening tears thickening her throat  
“Nothing to say, Vera? No denial? I thought as much,” smirked Joan, “you may go.” 

A bittersweet smile flickered on her lips as she watched as Vera tried to hide the angry disappointment. “Well? What are you waiting for, Miss Bennett? Please close the door on your way out.”

And so it was done. Discounting the unfortunate Hep C incident, it now felt to Joan as if their whole relationship had been leading to this point from the very start. It had been pure fancy to start entertaining the thought that Vera could have become someone special in her life. It was her own fault, she supposed, for failing to effectively manage Vera's emotional investment; and for allowing herself to become swept up in the delicious possibilities her fantasies promised.  
Her father was right: emotions lead to mistakes. Thank god she hadn’t got herself in too deep!

**Author's Note:**

> This may be the end of FreakyTits for Joan'sGlove but it's not the the end of Joan's adventures
> 
> And for those of you that love Prisoner era Joan - I'll be publishing tales from Wentworth Detention Centre in the very near future
> 
> I'd like to say a massive thank you to all my readers - I never thought that my brand of smut would be so well received and I hope that you find equal pleasure in my forthcoming tales 
> 
> JG x


End file.
